The Yes in the Never
by Mrs Trellis
Summary: It all started with one little favour.... AU starting before Critic in the Cabernet, so the whole of the end of s4 hasn't happened. M-Rating for certain chapters. Ch7 now up - and just whose remains are on Brennan's gurney?
1. The Flaw in the Logic

A/N: I'll keep this brief: my first story, B&B forever, be kind, r&r, and I don't own or make any money from any of this. You could try suing me, but unless you're a huge fan of pocket lint, you wouldn't be too pleased with the settlement....

* * *

Chapter 1: The Flaw in the Logic

"No."

"No?"

"No, Bones. I can't… No"

She'd broken it to him as gently as she knew how. How she'd thought about it. How she'd reasoned it out. How genetically he was very desirable. She couldn't understand his objections to such a logical proposal.

* * *

Earlier That Day

"Bones, have you heard a word I've been saying?"

Dr Brennan snapped her attention back to her partner. Not that her attention had wandered from him, she just hadn't been listening. Her decision to have a child had become fixed in her head within the last few weeks, and the more she thought about it, the more sure she became. The question was, who to provide the other half of the genetic material. She'd lost Mark and Jason, the only other men she knew well were her father, her brother…. And Booth. She knew Booth had no objections to children as he had Parker. And it's not like she was asking him to feel for her or commit himself to _her_ – just commit to the child. Or not. If he just wanted to donate and then never have anything to do with them again, that would probably be ok.

She spent a few days trying to study him. Strong bone structure, good posture, excellent muscle tone… Yes, he would make an excellent donor. How to broach the subject though? Would he accept her logic? Booth was too much of a 'heart' person to just throw himself into something as logical and natural as this without trying to want more from it. So… Logic had to be the way to go. Actually, appealing to his stomach was probably the way to go. Feed him, give him a few glasses of wine and then drop the bombshell.

"Yes, every word. Er…. You think the girlfriend is the most likely suspect, even though the Angelator says the blow had to come from someone six feet tall."

"Yes, Bones, I think so. Could high heels cause it, or standing on a step or anything?"

"Difficult to tell. It's possible, I suppose, but unlikely." Here goes…. "Booth, could you – would you – like some Chinese tonight? Or Thai food? Moroccan? Name it, my treat."

She could see the question had caught him off guard, and she cursed herself for her poor timing. She should have waited until they'd finished discussing the case.

"Er, yeah, Thai sounds good, why?"

"Just… My third book's had its final edit, I wanted to celebrate"

Great Tempe, so much for 'stick to the logic' – you just lied through your teeth.

"Great, of course. Do I get to read it this time? Or have you dedicated it to me again?"

_Dedicated it? I haven't even finished writing the damned thing..._

"We'll see. My place, seven?"

"Sure. So, why couldn't the girlfriend have been standing on something?"

* * *

Brennan clinked glasses with Booth and took a sip. Booth took a hearty swig of the red wine and smiled. No mention had yet been made of the book, but she knew it had to come up sooner or later, and then her secret would be out. She decided to get on with things.

"Booth, I'm afraid I got you here under false pretences. The book isn't finished."

She caught a glimpse of amusement in his eyes, then wariness.

"So, what, Ms Brennan, y'all just tryin' to get me drunk an' take advantage o'me?"

His attempt at a southern drawl was masking his apprehension.

"No, Booth. Seeley. I wanted to ask you something very important, but I couldn't mention anything about it at the lab. See, I've been thinking and I've decided … have reached the conclusion that …"

God, why was this so damned difficult?

"What is it Bones?"

She took a deep breath to compose herself.

"I want to have a family. Want to have a child. Children. I haven't decided, but you have to start with one, right?"

She was rushing her words, nervous. And she hadn't phrased that very well, would he understand what she was asking him?

"What happened to 'I don't want kids'?"

Oh god, he didn't understand.

"I re-evaluated. Please don't try and talk me out of this Booth, I've given it a lot of thought."

"God, no, Bones, I wouldn't dream of it, I think it's fantastic news! So who's the lucky guy, or were you just appraising me of the change of mind?"

Another deep breath. Here goes…

"Actually Booth, there isn't anyone. I … was going to need … to ask …have to ask for a donor."

Booth chuckled. He was still kicked back on the couch, all body language relaxed and jovial. For such a good detective mind, he really was infuriatingly slow sometimes.

"Jeez, Bones, I hardly think someone who makes that kind of deposit is going to provide the right genetic material you're looking for. You've probably got in mind a quadruple-doctorate-ed brainiac with an IQ of 376 and a vocabulary to put yours to shame. Not your typical sperm-bank regular…."

"I know. Actually I wasn't thinking of an anonymous donor. I had more in mind someone with excellent muscle tone, maybe excellent bones. Someone who," she swallowed nervously "gets their three glasses of milk a day…"

She studied his face closely, waiting for the penny to drop. He was watching her too, holding her eye contact, waiting for her to tell him who this mystery guy was. Then she saw it: a slight flicker in the eyes and the smile fading from his face. And suddenly she knew what his answer was going to be, she knew he was going to turn her down.

"Bones, you can't …. Me?"

"I know it's a huge favour to ask and I don't expect an answer straight away. You wouldn't have to pay maintenance or anything either, I wouldn't need you to be any more involved than the initial – uh – contribution."

She watched him lean back into the couch and take another gulp of his wine. She took the opportunity to have a sip of her own, but didn't relax her pose. On the edge of her seat, literally and figuratively. They sat there like that in silence for what seemed like forever. He wouldn't look at her. His cock-sure hold-your-gaze confidence was gone. Another mouthful of wine. And another. Then he leaned forward and placed his glass on the coffee table, clasped his hands between his knees, and brought his eyes up to meet hers. It made her heart race and broke it all at once.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why …. Why everything! Why change your mind, why now, why me, why … ?"

She ignored the last why, the last question he didn't or couldn't ask.

"I changed my mind because… I don't know actually. I don't know where the idea first came from, but the more I thought about it, the more logical it seemed to be and the more it made sense. Now, because logically speaking I can't wait forever and I'm financially very comfortable. _You_, because …. Well, several reasons, actually. Firstly, you're one of my few male friends that it wouldn't be inappropriate to ask. Secondly, you're genetically a very desirable match." She paused while he snorted derisively "And third … Well, I see how happy Parker makes you and thought you would understand why I would want that too."

He hadn't stopped looking at her throughout her reasoning. She wasn't even sure that he'd blinked. It was her turn to escape his eyes and hide herself in her wine glass. As she felt the wine trickle down her throat, she was acutely aware of his gaze burning into her, trying to make sense of her. He looked down at his hands and sighed.

"No."

It was barely audible, as if it wasn't even aimed at her.

"No?"

"No, Bones. I can't… No"

She sighed and nodded, trying to fight back a tear that was threatening to make itself known.

"May I ask why not?"

He looked up at her, sadness in his usually warm brown eyes.

"Several reasons actually."

She laughed, in spite of herself, at him turning her words against her. He didn't smile.

"First, and as I'm sure I've told you many times, I'm Catholic. Donation, IVF, all those treatments are frowned upon." He held his hand up to silence a protest she was about to make. "Secondly, yes, Parker makes me amazingly happy. But you've also seen what I've gone through not being with his mother, and I don't want to go through that again. Third…"

He sighed, deeply, and there was something in him that she couldn't read.

"Third, I just don't think I _could. _Having a child with you should be…" he stopped himself, unsure if he should continue that thought.

"Should be?"

"Should be done out of love and passion and a strong relationship, not out of logic and finances and a plastic cup."

He reached out for his wine glass again and drained it. He stalked out of the room in search of the bottle, leaving her alone with her glass and her thoughts. She contemplated his reasons. The Catholic angle was one she had forgotten. She should have done some research into their ethics on the matter. Still, the church also frowned on sex out of wedlock and the use of protection, and she knew him to have done the former. The latter she wasn't sure of, but she knew he had had plenty of partners, and there would be a lot more Parkers running around DC if he hadn't used something. His second reason had no place either, she wasn't asking him to get involved and go through the heartbreak he'd had with Rebecca, it wouldn't arise. As they were just platonic, she would have no cause for denying him access to the child, no need to use him or her as an emotional weapon.

His third reason puzzled her. 'Having a child with you' he had said. He had said it with feeling. With emotions. She realised she had missed another angle to all of this. Booth was a deeply emotional man and wouldn't be able to compartmentalise. He was never going to be able to see the logic of her decision without bringing his heart into the matter. She frowned and sat back, draining her glass. Realising he'd not returned with the bottle, she rose from her chair and strolled through to the kitchen.

He had his back to her. He was leaning on his elbows on the counter, swirling red wine in the deep glass and taking the occasional sip. He stopped when he heard her come in and straightened himself by leaning on his hands. She reached up to stroke his shoulder, a simple gesture they both did to each other all the time. He flinched. She pulled her hand away and reached for the bottle. She poured herself a glass and waited for him to speak.

"The Catholic argument didn't hold any water with you, did it?"

"Sorry, no. If you're going to follow an organised religion you have to follow all its rules, not ignore the ones you don't like. But I'm sorry for not thinking of it before approaching you."

"No apology necessary Bones. Temperance."

She shifted at the use of her first name. He rarely used it, and only ever when he was trying to show tenderness towards her. She wrapped her arm in his and pulled him away from the counter.

"I'm sorry I asked you Booth. Actually, I'm not. I'm sorry I asked you the way I did, and I'm sorry I didn't think it through as well as I thought. I'm sorry you don't want to help, but I understand your objections."

They started back to the couch. He squeezed her arm, then after a pause:

"Actually, I never said I didn't _want_ to."


	2. The Answer in the Question

A/N: Apologies for it being short, this one harder to write. Chapter 3's longer, promise!

* * *

Chapter 2: The Answer in the Question

_Actually, I never said I didn't want to_

Booth kept walking into her living room, but Brennan was stopped in her tracks. He was a full twenty feet away from her before he turned back to face her.

"What?"

"You want to? But you don't? I'm confused."

He held his free hand out to her and waited. After a pause, she moved to meet him and take it. They walked through and sat on the couch together. She tucked her feet up and leant back, watching him choose his words.

"_IF _I helped you, IF, hypothetically, how do you see it all working out?"

"Hypothetically? Which aspects?"

"All of it. From the – uh – contribution bit to the you-having-a-real-live-child bit."

Brennan laughed and choked on her wine.

"Well, um, I'd assume you would know how the contribution bit works. You know, guys into a cup, nurse with a syringe… I don't know the full details, but I'd assume your part in all that was fairly straightforward."

"Well, yeah, I'm just… I'm just trying to get my head round all of this."

"Well after that, assuming it works, I go through the pregnancy and then give birth. I don't know what there is that's hard to understand."

"But after the contribution, where do I fit in?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Well you said you don't want me paying maintenance and all that, but would I have any other part to play? Would I just be a donor and nothing else, or could I be the kid's dad?"

"You can be as involved as you want. If you just want to donate and then sever all ties, that's fine. If you want to see the kid and have it know you as daddy, that's fine too."

She drained her glass, and seeing him sit back in contemplation, headed back to the kitchen. She re-emerged a few moments later with a bottle and a couple of shot glasses. She waved the bottle at him cheerily.

"Thought you could use something a little stronger for medicinal purposes – to get over the shock."

He smiled at her and raised his glass in a silent toast. They both drank a quick draught and resumed what was fast becoming a difficult silence. He had gone back to avoiding her gaze, and while she knew it was because he was trying to form his next phrase, she wished he would get on and form it. She was burning to know how he could want to help her and yet not want to. She took another sip to make her lips tingle, and once the buzz had subsided, decided to press the subject.

"You said you can't."

"Yes."

"But you want to."

"Yes"

"So define the difference. How can both variables be true?"

Booth knocked back the rest of the glass in one gulp and settled it on the table. He reached out to touch the back of her hand where it rested on the back of the chair.

"Variable one: I want to help you have a child. I want to help you have anything you want to make you happy. Variable two," he cleared his throat, "I cannot help you in the way you are asking me to."

"Which part is the problem?"

"The, uh, first, uh, part. Donating."

Her brow furrowed as she searched his face for his meaning. If he wasn't happy about donating, then how did he propose to...? And then it clicked.

"You want us to have sex?"

Booth laughed hard at this. So many difficult questions had been asked that evening, so many difficult answers carefully phrased. THIS she found easy to blurt out!

"No! I mean, yes. I mean… Temperance, it may not be the Catholic talking, but I believe there are some things that should be done a certain way, and making a child is one of them. I want to help you, but it would have to be on my terms. I'm sorry that means I can't help."

There was yet another awkward pause, which Brennan used to refill the glasses. She picked hers up and swirled the clear liquid within, but did not drink. Booth didn't even pick his up.

"No, I suppose you can't."

"More food? I just got a need for second helpings."

"Sure."

Brennan watched him go through to the kitchen to get the Thai boxes and some chopsticks. She took a mouthful of alcohol and let it evaporate on her tongue. A small smile crept across her face. Was the idea so ludicrous? Logically speaking, she was in need of release, and she was sure he hadn't had a partner in months, so he probably did to. Then she remembered the emotional side of Booth. Accounted for it this time. Booth would get involved, would not be able to check his heart at the door. Still, she had a whimsical smile on her face when he returned.

"What?"

"What 'what'?"

"You're smiling."

"That not allowed?"

"No, not that it's not allowed, just … well, tonight's not gone as well as you might have anticipated, I'd understand if you were a bit down, the smile just caught me off guard."

"Not as well as I anticipated?"

"No, well, you don't want to do things the way I'd do them, so you didn't get the answer you might have hoped for."

"Actually, I never said I didn't want to."


	3. The Thai on the Floor

Chapter 3: The Thai on the Floor

_Actually, I never said I didn't want to_

Noodles and rice and shrimp went everywhere. Booth fumbled the tray with the boxes on and sent them flying when he heard what she said. She leapt to her feet and he sank to his to start the clear up.

"I'm so sorry Bones, I just … I get clumsy when a good joke makes me laugh."

"Oh? I didn't tell a joke, what did you hear?"

He stopped scraping up the scattered grains to look her in the eyes.

"I heard … I _thought _I heard you say you wanted to – to skip the donation part of the deal."

Brennan kept at the carpet, gathering stray noodles and bean sprouts.

"This would be so much easier with a vacuum cleaner. I'll just go and …"

Booth grabbed her wrist to arrest her flight and pulled her close to him. The air was nothing but static electricity. A line had been crossed, this was no longer the playful flirting and mutual understanding they usually enjoyed.

"Temperance."

She swallowed nervously. She knew now that there was no turning back from what she had said. It took all the courage she had ever had to call upon to raise her gaze from the carpet to meet his eyes. Death squads in Guatemala? A cinch compared to this!

"Booth, I … I'm sorry, I was just thinking about it and I rationalised that I could compartmentalise and keep that as strictly a – uh – business transaction, for want of a better phrase. I then realised that you're a heart person and you probably couldn't do that. But I have to admit I found the basic idea pleasurable, that's why I was smiling."

"You thought you could compartmentalise?" She could hear a slight bitterness creeping into his voice.

"You know I'm good at that Booth."

"You thought you could take all the heart out of us having sex?"

Brennan didn't like where this was headed. She was trying so hard to be logical about this, after all that's where she excelled. But Booth seemed to be getting tense and she didn't know how to diffuse the situation.

"Booth, please. You know I'm no good at the heart stuff. Would it really be so difficult for both of us to get what we wanted?"

He smiled and moved his hold from her wrist to her hand. With his free hand he rubbed his brow and swept back through his hair.

"Tempe, it would be the hardest thing in the world, because what we want is so vastly different."

"How, I don't understand?! I'm prepared to do things your way so that I can get what I want, what's the problem?"

He laughed, an embarrassed half chuckle.

"What I _want_, Temperance Brennan, is you. I want to help you to get what you want and I want you to enjoy my – uh – help. I don't want you to compartmentalise. I don't want you to rationalise. I don't want any of your damned logic and I don't want you saying there's no heart in what we'd be doing."

She sat listening to this, stunned to her very core. She knew Booth to be deeply passionate, but had never seen him this way before. He bowed his head and sat back, as if exhausted by the fervour of his speech. When he spoke again, it was in a barely audible whisper.

"I'd want to know you were doing things my way because you _wanted_ to, not because you felt obliged to. I'd want to know you were loving every second as much as I would be."

For the first time in years – possibly her life – Brennan had no logical thought left in her head. Her brain swam under the weight of what she had just learned, yet everything was suddenly crystal clear. She ducked her head under his to meet his lips and seized them in a tender kiss. He tasted of wine and vodka and Booth. She remembered well how he tasted from that meaningless Christmas kiss, but this was better, so much better. His lips trembled as he took the kiss and began to return it. They trembled harder as he broke it.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't do this Tempe. Don't do this to me if you have no feeling for me."

She put her finger to his lips and gently shushed him. She held his gaze now, never more sure of what she was doing. There was no logic any more, there may as well never have been. She took her finger from his lips and resumed her kiss. She could tell he was still hesitant, as if waiting for her to change her mind or reveal her cruel tease. She made the kiss more insistent, put behind it the passion she would the search for a killer. She curled herself into his body where it was slumped against the wall and stroked his face affectionately.

This was all he needed it seemed. He took hold of her wrists and pulled her closer, closer than she believed possible. She tried to pull away from his grasp, desperate to tackle his shirt buttons, but he wouldn't release her. Instead he started to kiss down her throat and across all the exposed skin above her neckline. She let her head roll back and allowed herself the pleasure of these sensations. He was much as she expected he might be, had she ever given it much thought. He was hungry yet tender, fervent yet restrained. She knew he would not rush this, knew she could trust him, knew that should she change her mind now he would respect that and not despise her for it. She allowed him to hold her and cover her with kisses. He returned to her mouth and captured her lips once more, releasing one of her hands. She moaned softly in thanks and complaint, but set to work at his shirt.

She laughed against him.

"This is really difficult."

"Mmhm"

It seemed he wasn't about to make things easier for her, so she continued fumbling at the buttons, while he stroked down her side and up under her sweater. The feel of his warm hand against her skin made her jump a little at first, especially at the lightness of his touch. Had she ever fantasised about this moment, she might have expected him to be rougher, more confident. But his fingers barely made contact, brushing lightly over her and making her flesh tingle in anticipation. She worked three buttons free and slipped her hand inside his shirt, keeping her touch as light as his. She felt his breath catch slightly as he kissed her and it made her heart race all the faster. His hand was now at her back, at the base of her bra strap. His kiss slowed and he pulled away, flushed and breathless, and rested his forehead on hers.

"Seeley?"

He pulled away, just an inch, and looked her in the eyes, deeper than he ever had before. Had she believed in souls, she would have believed that Seeley Booth had just made hers faint with ecstasy. He was breathing fast and she could see his pupils were dilated. Her brain fired off a logical and highly scientific explanation for such a reflexive reaction, but she wasn't listening.

"You sure about this?"

She made no reply, but freed her other hand and in one swift move, pulled him away from the wall and pushed him to the floor. She swung her leg over and straddled him, kissing down his neck and over the skin she had exposed beneath his shirt. He had her permission now and his hands were all over her, in her hair, over her back, under her sweater. He found her bra catch and undid it, then deftly swept it and her sweater over her head. She sat up over him, allowing him to admire her, and allowing her to remove today's clunky necklace. She cast it aside and smiled, watching him. He was just lying there, hands on her thighs and a dreamy smile on his face. She undid the rest of his shirt buttons and pulled the sides apart, exposing his flesh. She leant down to kiss him, pressed her cool skin against him and ran her fingers through his hair. As smartly as she had pinned him earlier, he now grabbed her and flipped her to her back, her long legs wrapped around him. She gave a little scream and laugh of surprise. He threw off his shirt and slid his hand up her thigh under her skirt. His fingers found something and he stopped, a startled look on his face.

"Stockings? You?"

She laughed, unsure why this surprised him.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Oh believe me, **nothing's** wrong with stockings. And a lacy garter belt. And…" He cleared his throat to try and get rid of the slight high pitch which was creeping in. "You often wear these?"

"Yes, I find them very practical."

He laughed. "Do I ask why?"

She smiled a little self-consciously. "Might ruin the moment a little."

"Then I won't ask."

He pulled up the hem of her skirt to expose the stocking top and the ribbon-covered clip of the garter belt. A little growl escaped his throat as he followed the elastic up to the belt, his finger between it and her thigh. He carefully unclasped all four and hooked his fingers into her panties. She smiled when he glanced at her, asking her agreement. He peeled the thin fabric down and over her stockings and flung them aside. She thought it an odd thing, but didn't question it. She did raise an eyebrow when he started to do the clasps back up, but he didn't see it, so she started to tackle his belt buckle. She smiled to herself. Cocky. Buckle and belt were thrown into the growing pile of clothing and she undid his jeans.

At this, he grabbed her hand and stood, pulling her to her feet.

"Bed?"

"Bed."

She led him through to her bedroom. Her hand had hesitated for the briefest second on the door handle and she cursed herself as she knew he would have noticed. She sat on the bed and pulled him close. She slipped her hands beneath his waistband and slid his jeans and his boxers down. She smiled. He was every inch as she remembered from when she'd walked in on him in the bath. She'd not meant to notice at the time, she had other things on her mind, but the woman in her that she tried so hard to ignore everyday had stored that memory away. Now he was there, in her bedroom, naked and aroused for her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the bed. He lay alongside her and stroked her hair.

"Last chance to change your mind Tempe. I'm not doing this if it's not what you want."

"It's what I want Booth. Seeley."

"Then lose the skirt. Keep the stockings."

He winked at her and watched her stand, unzip her skirt and shimmy out of it. She reached into the nightstand and grabbed a small packet. She held it up to him between her index and middle finger.

"Up to you Tempe. Your decision."

She brought the packet closer to herself and contemplated it, before placing it back in the nightstand. She slid onto the bed beside her partner and traced her fingers up his side. He nodded an agreement to her decision and slipped his hand between her thighs. The touch almost sent her over the edge immediately, she was so ready for him. She reached down to stroke him, aware he was already hard for her. He closed his eyes and bit back a shuddering sigh. She licked her lips nervously.

"I need you now Seeley."

He opened his eyes, nodded and moved over her. Throwing her legs over his back, she reached between her legs and pulled him into her. She closed her eyes in sheer bliss. She could feel every vein, every pulse beat in him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him start to move. It was slow and gentle, even though she was sure he must be aching to put on some pace. She opened her eyes and watched him, his eyes closed now and his brow furrowed in concentration. He placed his strong arms just above her shoulders so she was completely pinned. She pulled him down to her and started to kiss him. It seemed to break his concentration, as he picked up speed now, and his thrusts became more powerful. He broke the kiss first, pushing back up onto straightened arms and driving deeper and deeper into her. She felt the first wave of ecstasy crash over her suddenly and it made her dig her nails into his shoulders. If it had hurt him he didn't show it, and she wasn't able to let go. He kept her on the brink of a second for what felt like hours, before he thrust slightly deeper and tipped her over the edge. She screamed his name and called out to gods she didn't believe in, all the while digging her heels into his buttocks to push him in deeper still. His eyes flew open and his lips parted as he came, half swearing, half panting. He collapsed onto her and buried his face in her shoulder as his whole body shook with the relief of release.

"I love you Tempe."

The declaration threw Temperance off balance. She hadn't expected it, and wasn't sure she was ready to make the expected reply. Instead of answering, she smothered him with kisses, holding him while they both rode out the aftershocks. He withdrew and laid next to her, still kissing her, tasting her as if he had never tasted anything so sweet. She pulled the rumpled covers out from underneath them and wriggled both of them underneath. She smiled at his contented sigh and kissed his forehead. His head rested on her shoulder, his arm draped like a dead weight across her stomach. She watched his back rise and fall as his breathing steadied. She felt herself start to drift off before the sudden realisation of what she had done hit her.

"Booth?"

"I think you can call me Seeley now."

"Booth, you realise what we've done?"

Detecting slight panic in her voice, he pushed himself up onto his forearms and opened his eyes.

"The really amazing sex part or the possibly just made a baby part?"

"Both. Well, mostly the baby part."

"Second thoughts?"

She fiddled with her fingers for a minute and stared at a nail she didn't realise she'd chipped. Anything not to look at him.

"Maybe a little."

"I'm sure that's normal. You ok?"

She placed her hands on his arm and dared herself to look him in the eye. She saw the concern on his face and saw that it was all for her. For once, she went with her heart.

"I'm ok. I… I think I love you too Seeley."

He laughed, knowing that that may be the best she could do for now. He reached up to kiss her.

"We'll deal with it whatever happens. It doesn't always just take a one night stand anyway. If nothing happens, we can always try again. Unless…. Unless you don't want to?"

She smiled.

"Actually, I never said…."

He laughed as they completed the thought: "…I didn't _want_ to…"

* * *

_**A/N: So, what do you think? I'm mulling over carrying on with 'what happened next' - worth a try? R&R my B&B :)**_


	4. The Remains to be Seen

Chapter 4: The Remains to be Seen

Temperance Brennan awoke from a deep comfortable sleep to the sound of a voice in her apartment. Her eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest. Then the memories from the night before gained consciousness. She sat up in the bed and fussed at her hair, waiting for the talking to stop in the other room. She glanced down at the nightstand and saw the open drawer containing the unused condom. She felt a slight pang of anxiety, but slammed the drawer shut resolutely. Deciding Booth wasn't hurrying back in, she slipped out of bed and wandered over to the dresser to pick out some clothes. She was trying to decide between a blue or grey blouse when strong arms crept around her waist and a pair of lips started to kiss around the back of her neck.

"I hope that's you Booth"

"No" kiss "it's" kiss "the strangest" kiss "murderer" kiss "ever…"

She grinned and turned to face him, holding up the blouses.

"Blue or grey?"

"Don't bother with a blouse. T-shirt and jeans, I'm afraid we've got work."

She pulled away from his embrace, trying to ignore his hurt-puppy look as she did so.

"Is that what you were talking about?"

"Yeah. My phone rang, I didn't want to disturb you, but as it was a call for both of us anyway…"

"No problem. Best get dressed then I suppose, I'll wait for them to call me before heading over."

"No need, I told them I'd give you the details."

"Booth! It's" she checked her clock "It's 5am! What are they going to say?!"

"Tempe, I **told **them I was going to pick you up. We kinda didn't discuss the 'now what' side of this deal, so I thought best keep quiet until we did. And what's all this 'Booth' business? It was oh-god-Seeley last night…" He threw her a winning smile that couldn't help but return.

She dug some jeans and a tee out of a drawer and threw them on the bed so she could remove her slept-in stockings. Her subdued mood didn't go unnoticed. Booth sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke her arm.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I think I'm just getting myself into 'Death Mode'. And trying to work out the 'now what' part you talked about. Booth – Seeley – would you mind if we did keep this quiet for now? All of it, the baby, the sex…"

"You left out 'amazing'"

"Alright, the amazing baby…" She threw him glance, which he returned with an amused shake of the head. "I just think it would be nice to keep it as a secret, for the moment. How long that'll last when you bump into Angela wearing yesterday's clothes and," she plucked something from his hair "koa mook gai in your hair, I have no idea."

She presented the grain of rice for his inspection before placing it on the nightstand and returning to her garter belt. He ruffled his hair to knock out any extra stray Thai and sighed.

"I agree about secrecy, and about Angela. Cam's probably a worry too, she and Ange have some sort of sixth sense about this sort of thing. Sex-dar." He paused, waiting for his partner to pontificate on the lack of such a thing. Seeing the interruption wasn't going to come, he continued: "So, what, we're back to good ol' Booth 'n' Bones?"

"I think that would be wise. One 'Seeley' from me and our cover's blown."

Temperance zipped up her jeans and pulled on a t-shirt, sure Booth had noticed her lack of underwear. She pulled her hair up into a casual knot to keep it out of the way and grabbed a jacket from the closet. She was about to head out of the bedroom when Booth grabbed her wrist.

"Tempe."

"What?"

"What about us?"

"What 'what about us?'"

"Forget all the what-about-work stuff, where do we go from here?"

A puzzled, concentrated look crossed her face, the same sort of look she got when willing a skeletal fracture to yield up more information.

"I think we make it up as we go along, just like everyone else."

Seeley grinned, appreciating a nod to being a normal person. "One more question."

"Yes?"

"Seriously, you, in stockings. I'd never have seen that coming."

"Technically that's not a question."

Booth sighed and shook his head. His Bones was back, logic in hand. "Never mind Bones, let's go and check out these remains. You can explain your choice of undergarments later. You can also explain your current lack thereof."

"What, that needs an explanation?"

Laughing, they both headed out the door, Booth giving her rear a playful slap. She gave a girlish scream but kept laughing. Things had changed so much since yesterday, and for the first time in years she, Dr Temperance Brennan PhD, felt happy.

* * *

**_A/N: Little bit of filler to keep things ticking over til chapter 5, and to get this conversation from buzzing round my head. I have two possible directions to take this story in and I'm fighting with myself over which one to choose... R&R please :)_**

**_Just another disclaimer: don't own them, never have, never will, (more's the pity) but I do love them dearly and promise to put them back in the original packaging when I'm through playing. _**


	5. The Sailor in the Frame

Chapter 5: The Sailor in the Frame

Seeley Booth was kicking back behind his desk, tossing a football from hand to hand and staring at the posters on the back wall. He probably had a stupid grin on his face, but he didn't care.

He had slept with Temperance Brennan. Had had sex with her. No – he'd made love to her. He'd never been the kind of guy to just 'conquer' women, he wasn't really the one night stand type. He had been crazy about Brennan for years and now they had finally crossed that line. With the added craziness of baby-making at the outset, but he'd deal with that as and when. And the best bit was, he knew she wanted to do it again. He'd left her at the lab sifting through a thousand minute pieces of zygomatic whatever, knowing that under the professional coat and smart hair was absolutely no underwear whatsoever. He was just glad he hadn't bumped into Angela, she would have picked up on the post-sex vibe within milliseconds, and he wasn't sure he'd have been able to lie his way out of it.

Now he was waiting for a call back regarding a possible ID, killing time by checking his hair for rice and spinning the ball on one finger. His brain took a good few seconds to match a face to the voice that interrupted him.

"Working hard I see?"

_Why now? Of all the people, why him and why NOW?_

"You didn't get shipwrecked then?"

"Oh I did, but I lashed a couple of sea-turtles to my feet…"

Booth laughed and put the football back on its stand. He spun his chair around to look at who he supposed was now his rival. Tim Sullivan was tanned and very relaxed, unshaven and slightly more muscular than when Booth had seen him sail off into the sunset and abandon Tempe. What should he say? Had he already seen her and was he now here to kick his ass?

"How long have you been back?"

Sully looked at his watch and did a quick calculation.

"3 hours, 24 minutes. Probably some seconds as well, but I lost track."

"And, er, what are you doing here?"

"Seeing if they'll take me back. I kinda extended my leave a little longer than intended, I was half expecting that they would tell me to get lost. Thankfully they didn't, I've got to go through some stuff, sort of re-training, and then I can get back to perps and gangs and all the lovely things in life."

Booth narrowed his eyes as he tried to decide how to ask. Best to just bite the bullet he figured.

"And… Bones?"

"I haven't been over there yet. I…. I thought I'd see you first, so you could tell me where I stand. I didn't want to just waltz in there and find her in her office with her husband or something."

Booth laughed, more at the idea of Brennan being married than at the irony of the conversation. He was relieved, all he had to do was stick to their plan. Keep it quiet.

"No, that's not going to happen. More because security's tightened since you left, we had a serial killer thing, it's a long story. Boil it down – Zack's now in an institution for killing a guy. Bones hasn't got married, Angela and Hodgins…. That's too complicated to go into as well. A lot's changed."

He felt Sully scrutinising him, almost as if he'd already figured out the situation, but he didn't press it.

"Booth, would you tell her I'm back? I'll leave you my number, if you could pass it on? I understand if she doesn't want to call and I think if I just show up it'll be awkward."

'_No more awkward than you being here at all,' _Booth thought.

"Sure, yeah, I'll tell her."

"Thanks, man"

Seeley watched him scribble the number on a piece of paper and leave. He stared dumbly at Sully's scrawl, unable to pick it up and feeling completely numb.

* * *

Brennan's back was aching. She'd been gluing together pieces of zygomatic for four hours, and it was still only about half done. Much as she tried not to make intuitive leaps, she couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to this person to break a bone so completely. She looked down at the desk in front of her and sighed. There were still thousands of pieces left, none more than a centimetre across. Truth be told, she could have worked a lot quicker, but she wasn't compartmentalising as well as she thought she could. A couple of times she'd even found herself daydreaming. Reminiscing about the night before and anticipating the night ahead – she was seriously distracted.

She had to walk around a bit. She heaved herself out of her chair and arched back. She shook her shoulders and was just cricking her neck from side to side when Angela came up onto the central stage.

"Rough night?"

"Rough day" Brennan answered, but somehow Angela must have picked up on a flash of panic in her face or her voice or… something.

"It _was _a rough night! Who's the lucky guy?"

"Nobody. I mean, it wasn't a rough night. I mean..."

"I know _exactly_ what you mean. So come on, details. I need vicarious thrills sweetie!"

"Angela, this really isn't the place for – whatever you're implying."

"Oh, don't play games Bren. You had some fun and you don't want to share, which means it wasn't just one of your go-to guys. Your office, now."

She knew she was defeated. Time to try some lying, Booth had taught her well – time to put it into practise.

"Fine." She gestured at the tiny shards on her desk. "He's not going anywhere."

They walked up to her office in silence, but at a brisk pace. Without looking, Brennan knew that Angela had a curious smile on her face. Silence was good, it was giving her time to think what to tell Angela. As she walked in however…

"Hi Bones."

"S… Booth!"

Both Brennan and Seeley missed the sudden knowing look on Angela's face, and the look of satisfaction that followed it.

"What do you want Booth?"

"Hey Booth, Brennan's got a new man."

"That so?"

Bones didn't believe in God, but knew if she did she'd have been thanking him at that moment that Booth was such a cool customer. Angela must have been fooled. Must have.

"Booth, you were here for a reason?"

"Er, right. Er, the, er, ID on the victim?"

"That'll take more time, the skull's been smashed to – what's that word? Smithens?"

"Smithereens, Bones." Booth laughed. He'd almost forgotten Angela was there, watching them, taking all of this in. She cleared her throat.

"That everything Booth, or did you want to stay and hear about Brennan's night?"

Booth glanced at Bones, wondering how much she'd already let slip, if he'd already been dropped in it. Probably not, he decided, or Bones would have admitted to it. That or Angela wouldn't have been so teasing.

"No, that wasn't everything, but the rest is a personal thing."

"Oh, you want the gossip to yourself huh? Well forget it hot stuff, the juicy details are mine first."

Sighing, Booth removed the slip of paper bearing Sully's number from his pocket and slid it across Brennan's desk. She looked at him, confused, then picked it up to study it. He saw the realisation cross her face. All of the realisation: the recognition of the handwriting, the realisation that he was back, the heartbreak at the timing, the indecision, all crossed her face within half a second. She looked over at Angela.

"Ange, can you give me a moment, please?"

"But sweetie!"

"Please?"

The artist took the change of tone as it was meant, that she wasn't being shooed as a nuisance, but that this was a genuine personal matter that her friend needed to discuss. But as she glanced at the pair of them before she left the room she made a decision to go to find her former lover.

* * *

"What does this mean?"

It broke Booth's heart to see her like this. Tears were welling up in her eyes and the hand holding the phone number was shaking. He crossed to her and took her to the couch to sit her down.

"He came into my office about an hour ago. He's not even been back a day. He didn't want to come down here himself, he wanted to leave the ball in your court. He's back, there's his number, call him or don't, I think that's the deal."

"But what do I do? Is he expecting that we can just pick up where we left off?"

"I don't know Tempe, I think he's hoping you'll call him and find out."

She turned the paper over and over in her hands, occasionally taking a hand away to wipe a tear from an eye. She had missed that man more than any other she had been involved with, perhaps even loved him. It had taken her a long time to get over him leaving and now… Now was the worst possible time he could have chosen to come back to the city.

"I don't know Booth, I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I feel for him any more. And then…" She paused to check no-one was waiting in the doorway before lowering her voice. "Then there's us. It would be perfectly logical for you not to have told me."

He looked at the floor. "To tell the truth I nearly didn't. But he's coming back to the Bureau and I figured it would hurt a whole lot more if you bumped into each other as part of a case and I'd not told you."

She nodded slowly. "So what do we do?"

"We?"

"Yeah, we. I think I should at least call Sully, even if it's only to tell him no. But do I tell him why? Do _we_ tell him why? And what the hell am I going to tell Angela?"

"I don't know. I think it's none of their business. On a purely alpha male dominance thing I think Sully's got a nerve coming back with more muscles and I'll happily go three rounds with him if you ask me."

"He's got more muscles?"

Panic crossed Booth's face for the briefest of moments before he noticed a teasing glint in her eye. "You, making jokes? This has been a weird couple of days!" He checked the doorway for eavesdroppers and witnesses before giving her a comforting hug. He kissed her neck softly as he pulled away, and felt her flinch.

"Too much?"

"Sorry. Too much too soon. Or too much all at once, I don't know." She sighed, she had made a decision. "Will you come with me? I think I want to meet Sully, at least tell him no to his face. I don't want to do it alone."

"Of course. But I'll take my lead from you, I won't tell him anything you don't want me to." He paused. "I'd totally understand if you wanted to take a rain check on tonight by the way."

She laughed, softly and almost half-heartedly, before looking him in the eye.

"We'll see. Could…. Would you stay with me tonight if I want to – you know – or not?"

Now it was Booth's turn to laugh. He took her back into a hug. "Of course. Take as long as you need."

* * *

Angela walked up to Hodgins' desk and looked over the glass divider at him. She smiled. He was so engrossed in dissecting some bug or other that he hadn't even noticed her. She drummed her fingers on the partition, startling him out of his little world.

"I know something. And when you know it, you should know that I know. But I don't feel we can discuss it until you know it independently from me."

Hodgins smiled.

"Cam and Booth back together? Cos you stole my way of breaking gossip."

"No, but I liked the way you did it and it seemed right. But trust me, when you know – and you will know – you are going to want to know that I know and we really REALLY should discuss it." She flashed her most charming smile and left him at his desk, bemused and still completely in love.

* * *

**A/N: First, apologies for taking so long to update, I think my muse has been on a world cruise. Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review to let me know :D**

**And of course, it hardly needs saying that I don't own or make money out of this lot, no matter how much I dream and wish it. Only the words above are mine. Well, except that tiny snippet at the end, you know which bit I mean ^_^**


	6. The Glass on the Road

**A/N: Firstly - I know, I know, I've been AGES updating! I kind of wrote myself into a corner with the last chapter, my muse and I had a MASSIVE fight and I think she left me for another writer. But we've made up now, and I've actually got ideas for the next chapter as well as another story, so updating should be better from here on!**

**Secondly - YOU know I don't own them, I know I don't own them, I'm just doing this out of love for Bones and all the characters therein. And for the reviews (hint hint) ;)**  


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Chapter 6: The Glass on the Road

Brennan cancelled the call for the fifteenth time. Why was this so hard? She wasn't emotional, she was logical, rational, reasoned…. Booth had changed all that, and she didn't seem to mind. She sighed a deep, tearful, shuddering sigh and steeled herself. She dialled the number that she now knew by heart and this time, let it ring.

"Hello?"

"Hello Mr Sullivan, my name is Dr Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institute."

"Ah, good afternoon Dr Brennan, how can I help you?"

Tempe was suddenly unnerved. She'd attempted to keep the tone light, make this easier on herself – but hearing his voice threw her composure. She tried to keep her voice even as she continued.

"I was wondering if you'd be free this afternoon for a meeting, say at the Royal Diner?"

"I'll need to check my schedule… yes, I'm free, what time?"

"Say, 2pm?"

"I'll be there Tempe. It's good to hear your voice again."

That did it. He'd thrown away all pretence, destroying her façade of calm with it. Now what could she say? She couldn't pretend it wasn't nice talking to him again, couldn't pretend she didn't enjoy the ease with which they'd slipped in to playful bantering. But she also couldn't pretend her heart wasn't breaking with confusion.

"You too Sully. I'll see you at two."

She closed her cell to end the call and almost threw it onto her desk in frustration before burying her head in her hands.

* * *

She sat at their usual table in the diner window playing nervously with her necklace. Booth was not with her. They'd had a long talk about how to play the meeting before deciding that it would look odd for him to be there for such a personal thing, and would certainly tip Sully off to exactly why Brennan was turning him down. Instead, Booth would turn up a little after Sully and "rescue" her with a fake case.

She sipped anxiously at her drink and glanced at the door for what felt like the hundredth time. This time though she was rewarded. She smiled, more to herself than to Sullivan. Booth was right: he **was** more muscular than when he left. More toned, tanned and with a certain handsome scruffiness from the stubble on his chin.

_Focus Brennan, that kind of thinking is just going to get you into a world of trouble._

She stood up to meet him with a hug. She felt the familiarity of his body pressed close to hers, the ease with which he seemed to fit – and yet it felt wrong and she was overwhelmed with a sensation of guilt. She quickly broke the embrace and sat, avoiding eye contact. She felt him watching her, dissecting her with his gaze.

"You're going to say no aren't you?"

He hadn't even sat down. He'd read her like a book – and so quickly. How had he done that after so long apart? She looked up at him, a tear already forming in her eye.

"Did you want a coffee?"

Such a stupid, perfunctory thing to say. Yet she wanted this to be a conversation, not a simple 'Yes I am, goodbye.' She still hadn't decided how much she was going to tell him, but she felt she had to give him something. He sighed.

"Yeah, I'll have a coffee. Let you dump me as slowly as possible."

He sat and they waited in silence for the coffee. She still couldn't look at him, but she knew he hadn't stopped gazing at her for a second. She watched him stir creamer into his coffee and take a first gulp before she spoke.

"Was I supposed to wait for you?"

She was surprised to see him smile at this, before realising the smile was somewhat rueful.

"No, I suppose not. It would have been nice, but I didn't make that explicit and I suppose I shouldn't have expected it."

"No."

"So are you with anyone, or have you just gone off me?"

And there it was. The question she didn't know how to answer, or at least how far to answer it. She carefully glanced out of the window, hoping to see Booth on his way to rescue her, but he wasn't there.

"It's complicated. I haven't gone off you, I just…. I don't feel how I felt when you left, that's all. Rebecca – Booth's ex – she once told me that she thinks that there's a moment for two people, and while that's clearly not rational or possible, I think I know what she meant now. I think we missed our moment."

She jumped slightly as her cell chirped in her pocket, but she ignored it and let it run to voicemail. She studied Sully's face, hoping he understood and would take the rejection as it was meant – kindly, sadly, without malice. After several moments, he nodded reluctantly.

"Okay. Well, thanks for at least wanting to tell me to my face."

"We thought it would be better that way." Her voice caught as she finished the sentence and realised what she'd said. Had he picked up on it?

"We?"

"I'd discussed it with Angela. I still rely on her for people skills advice." It worried Brennan how easily she lied these days, she'd have to speak to Booth about it. Where was he anyway? She watched Sully buy the lie and gained some satisfaction that she must at least be good at lying, whether or not she enjoyed doing it. He stood and held out his hand.

"Thank you Tempe. Thanks for being straight with me. And if you ever feel you could recapture that moment, you've got my number. See you around." He went to pay for his coffee and walked out, without so much as giving her a backward glance. She sat in stunned silence at how easily that has gone before her brain nudged her back to the real world. _Right, voicemail._

She listened to the message playback, already knowing what it would be. She headed back to the Jeffersonian for her kit. A body in a burned out car. So much for being rescued by a **fake **case.

* * *

As always, the smell was the first assault on the senses in a case like this. There was a distinct difference between the smell of a slow-roasted leg of lamb and a quick-burned human body, and it was impossible to describe to anyone who hadn't experienced it first hand. Once you **had** experienced it, you never forgot. The smell lingered in your nostrils for days afterwards, and clung to your hair and clothes. After one particular case, Brennan remembered showering for two hours every day for three days and still catching a waft of burnt flesh as she dried her hair. It still amazed her how the smell of the flesh so completely overwhelmed the other smells connected to a burning vehicle – gasoline, burning leather and paint, all paled in comparison.

The second assault was the sight. The body sat in the passenger seat was almost unrecognisable as having once been human. Almost all flesh was gone and the bones were charred and splintered from the intense heat. Some of the smaller bones looked like lumps of charcoal from a barbecue. The car – if that's what it had been – had been blown apart completely. Her initial call hadn't mentioned she was coming to a potential bomb, but from the state of the vehicle, it had to have been.

She stood behind the yellow tape, zipping herself into her blue coveralls and tying her hair into a loose bun. She surveyed the scene, getting a feel for the overall look of the place before heading for the body. It must have been a massive explosion from the spread of debris. The car that had been closest to the exploding vehicle was almost completely destroyed as well.

She took in the third assault on the senses. The noise. Close in to the wreck was eerily silent, aside from the odd flutter of the last light pieces of debris that were still falling. The police around the site got quieter the closer they got to the car, she supposed it was out of some sort of reverence. But away from the vehicles, alarms on nearby parked vehicles were going off in dissonant wails and screams, police shouted, helicopter news crews thudded above and witnesses sobbed to paramedics and police and anyone who would listen. She tuned it all out except the rush of blood in her ears caused by the adrenaline in her system.

She took a breath and decided to go for the least mangled remains first. The driver of the car behind was male, Caucasian, approximately 60 years old. The skull and teeth were still mostly intact, so identification should be fairly straightforward, especially with the license plate of the vehicle. She noted that a large piece of debris, probably from the bombed car, had sliced clean through the driver's chest. Lucky guy, she found herself thinking. He probably died instantly, rather than being burned alive. She moved around the car, crunching some red glass underfoot as she went to the passenger. She knew they hadn't been as lucky. Female, Caucasian, probably around the same age as the driver. Some damage to the shoulder from the same piece of debris that had killed the driver… But there was blood on the clip for the seat belt, and the left hand was gripping the belt. She knew that the lady had been hurt but in her panic hadn't been able to free herself from the restraint and run before the fire took hold. It was something Brennan had seen before in plane crash sites. It was one of the few things she found hard to stomach: to survive something so horrific and then die because you couldn't operate a simple buckle.

She braced herself to move on to the main remains. Something had been bothering her since she got to the site, but she hadn't been able to put a finger on it. More glass crunched underfoot, black and blue. Blue? That was odd… She looked into the driver's seat. It was worse than she thought. The skull was in pieces, most of them embedded in the various scattered parts of the car. There was hardly a piece of bone that wasn't shattered or splintered by bomb parts, or just plain **missing. **About the only thing she could tell from the remains in front of her were that this was a man, and he'd probably been fairly tall.

"I'll need to get all of him back to the lab, probably the vehicle too as most of him seems to be stuck to it."

"No worries Dr Brennan."

She had started to walk away. There was very little she could do here after all, she needed the remains at the Jeffersonian to get anything further done. She'd taken no more than a step when something caught her eye.

"Can I pick this up?" She asked the nearest technician.

"Sure, we've photographed that side."

Fear, heartbreak, anger, sorrow all crashed over her at once as she picked up the small square of metal from beside the remains of the front wheel. She brushed away some of the burnt tarnish, she had to be sure. And there it was, one word which destroyed her.

Cocky.

* * *

**More A/N: Yes, I know, I'm cruel!**


	7. The Remains in the Lab

**A/N: What can I say, when a story's flowing, it's flowing! If you're here, thanks for sticking with me past the last chapter. I'm cruel, wicked and horrible I know - but sometimes B&B need to put through the ringer, means to an end and all that....**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, surely you've worked that out by now. If I WAS connected to the show, 'End in the Beginning' would never have happened for a start....**

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Chapter 7: The Remains in the Lab

It was all Brennan could do to stay vertical, when every fibre of her being was screaming at her to fall, faint, throw up, anything but be here, holding his belt buckle in her hand. She summoned up the rational part of her brain, begged it to speak some sense.

_It might not be him. You managed to replace the buckle before, they're easily available._

_But the glass – blue and red glass from the lights on the SUV, black glass from the tinted windows. The license plate. Find the license plate._

_No. Get the body back to the lab. Confirm or deny there._

_The body._

_The body._

Then, running towards her….

"Sully!"

"Hi, Tempe. Bureau decided they couldn't wait for me to retrain, it was more important to get me onto this case – bombing in the middle of DC! Booth here?"

She couldn't speak. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. She was left to hand over the charred buckle.

"Oh man." He stared at her, not knowing what to say until finally….

"Whoa!"

Agent Sullivan caught Dr Temperance Brennan as she slipped into a dead faint.

* * *

There had never been such silence in the lab. Brennan, now in her lab coat, was being supported by Angela, who had long since given up fighting back the tears. Hodgins was watching the exploded vehicle being manoeuvred into the room while Cam pushed a trolley of remains behind it. Sully was watching Dr Claude Larochette examine the remains on the table. A lot of arguing had gone into the decision to fly Dr Larochette in from Montreal, but Brennan had finally been forced to admit that she was too close to this one. If the remains proved to be Booth's….. they may have to fight the FBI to allow the Jeffersonian's investigation to continue, let alone Dr Brennan's.

If they were Booth's. The license plate found at the scene was Booth's. The belt buckle. Booth wasn't answering his cell, Brennan kept getting that damned woman telling her the number she wanted was out of service. But it was all going to take so long – the state of the skull….. She knew now why Booth always wanted her to limit her talk about the state of the remains when talking to relatives. It was too painful. He had been right, nobody wanted to know details.

At least she knew Dr Larochette was good at his job. He would concentrate on the facts and get her an answer as soon as he could. But the thought of Booth ending up on one of her gurneys paralysed her. She looked up when Sullivan stroked her arm, and realised he must have been talking to her for a while and she hadn't taken any of it in.

"Tempe? Did you hear me? Can I take you to your office and talk?"

"Yeah, sure, I suppose you have to. I shouldn't be here for this anyway."

She didn't remember getting to her office, or sitting on the couch where just a couple of days previously Booth had kissed her. And she had flinched. She chastised herself inwardly for it. Had she known, she would have seized that kiss and enjoyed every prolonged moment of it.

"Do you know where Booth was headed?"

"Why?"

"Look, I know this is hard, but I need to know what he was working on and where he was going at the time the vehicle blew. Might give me a lead."

"We don't know it was him in the vehicle."

Sullivan sighed. "I know, but I have to work on the fairly good assumption that it was, the sooner I get a lead, the sooner I can follow it and maybe get whoever did this to your friend."

She bit the bullet.

"Lover."

"Excuse me?"

"He wasn't just my friend, we'd started … I suppose you could call it dating, a relationship."

"I see, and how long did you wait after I'd sailed out of D.C., an hour, a day?" His voice rose in anger. She kept her voice cool in comparison, not that she had the energy to do much else.

"Two years actually. We started – what day is it?"

"Friday."

"We started together on Wednesday. We've not even really started yet, we've had no relationship."

"You said you were lovers."

"Once. One time only. But we were going to try and be together."

He was quiet now, mulling over this information.

"I picked a great time to come back, didn't I?"

She laughed, a hollow, empty, pathetic laugh.

"You sure did."

They sat in silence a moment longer, neither able to look at the other. She was surprised to feel his hand on hers. She looked up to see deep concern on his face.

"I'm sorry. Genuinely. I know Booth cared about you very deeply, and I will get whoever did this, regardless of just how jealous I am of him right now."

"Thank you. You said you wanted to know where he was going?"

"If you're up to it."

"I don't know where he was going. He was supposed to come to the diner, interrupt us, rescue me I suppose. But obviously that's not where he was going, he wasn't even heading in the right general direction. That makes me think that it either wasn't him or he got some other information on a case we started on yesterday and was off to pursue it. But he would have called to tell me."

"Okay. Now, you get Angela to take you home, get away from here. I'll call you if I need anything."

"I can't go home, I need to be here."

"No, you really don't. You'll either get yourself stressed or you'll bother Dr Larochette stupid. Go to Angela's place. Cam's. Hodgins'. Hell, book yourself into a hotel, you've got the money. Just get away from here."

Grudgingly, she agreed, and slipped out of her lab coat. She grabbed what she needed from her desk and went to find Angela.

* * *

Dr Larochette tutted to himself as he retrieved another shard of bone from the interior of the SUV. He knew this would be a difficult case when he took the original call, but he hadn't banked on the high emotion of everyone involved. He partially wished he'd gone with his original impulse to have the remains sent up to him – but that would have taken time he reasoned, time these people didn't have. Plus the paperwork involved in shipping remains across the border? He groaned inwardly.

"Dr… Saroyan was it?" The French accent was thick, but his English was perfect.

"Yes? Call me Cam, please."

"Cam, if you could please assist, if you are comfortable?"

"Just tell me what you need."

"I was wondering if you might examine these pieces under some magnification? There are some anomalies with the fracture patterns that seem inconsistent with the presumed cause of death."

"Certainly. Do you know… Do you have any idea how long it might take to get an ID?"

He frowned and contemplated her for a minute.

"Désolé madame, I am sorry but is difficult. As you see, so many fragments. Forgive me, you were a friend of the suspected victim?"

"Yes, good friends."

"This must be very painful, would you rather I call in someone else to assist?"

"A little part of me would like to be as far away from here as possible. Most of me wants to do everything I can to catch the bastard who did this, so no. I want to be here."

"Understandable and laudable madame. Forgive me saying, but I wish to remain clinical – there are a lot of fragments, but I have yet to find any teeth."

"Is that odd?"

"Considering I have found bits of everything else, very. It will also add time to my identification."

"Okay, well, we'll help where we can. I'll go and look at these."

* * *

Camille was still studying the pieces Larochette had given her when she heard a light tap at her office door. She was surprised to see him there with Sullivan, holding a large brown folder.

"Doctor?"

"Please madame, call me Claude. I have… news"

"News? What sort of news?"

"It concerns identification – or not as is the case."

"Do I want to hear this?"

Sullivan smiled at her and she felt every muscle in her body relax. Surely – he **had** to be smiling because it was good news, right?

"You wanna hear it Cam, trust me. I'll let the doc explain."

Larochette removed several x-ray films from the folder and placed them against the light-box on Cam's desk. He then carefully removed a few long bones from a baggie in his pocket.

"This" he indicated a metatarsal on the x-ray of a left foot "is Agent Booth's metatarsal. If you see the multiple hairline fractures across most of it? Many many fractures acquired over a number of months, I expect as a result of torture. This" he indicated one of the long bones on the desk "is the relative metatarsal from our bombing victim. I am happy to tell you – for Monsieur Booth's sake at least – that this metatarsal has never been so much as scratched. Further proof in the bones of his right foot" he indicated more bones on desk and x-ray "again, not so much as – what do you say? A stubbed toe. Also, the last is the clavicle." Once more he gestured to the corresponding bone and image. "Monsieur Booth was blown up a few years ago I understand, resulting in greenstick fracture to the left clavicle. Not our bombing victim."

Camille was so happy she could have cheered. Then it hit her.

"Great, so it's not Booth. So where is he, and why has someone gone to a lot of effort – killed two people – to convince us he's dead?"

"Good questions Cam. Now my turn – do I tell Tempe?" Sully looked anxious

"You haven't told her?"

"No – how do I? 'Hey, great news, your boyfriend's not been blown up but we don't where he is either'?"

"Wait, what? Boyfriend? Why do I get the impression you're not joking?"

"She didn't tell you? Figures I guess. Turns out she and Booth got … friendly on Wednesday."

"Well finally, they've been skirting it since" she checked herself "Since before you were together, sorry Sully."

He shrugged it off, disguised how much knowing that hurt him. He knew, really, deep down. Hell, he'd called Booth on it when he and Tempe had first started dating. Much as Booth had said he didn't want her, Sullivan had always known the truth

"Nah, it's ok, I know. So anyway, how do I tell her? DO I tell her?"

"Tell me what?"

They all jumped in surprise at hearing her voice. Larochette was the first to speak.

"Dr Brennan, please, take a look for yourself." He stood and gestured to the seat he had just been occupying, and at the bones and x-ray films. Brennan looked confused at the trio, curious why no-one was questioning her presence. She seated herself in front of the evidence and examined for a few moments in silence. She looked up at Larochette first, her face lit up with the largest grin she'd ever worn in her life.

"It's not Booth?"

"It is not, madame."

The smile faded into a confused frown. "Then where the hell is he?"


End file.
